


Those She Loved

by tafih



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Callum's father is an elf, F/M, Gen, When Viren ate the last jelly tart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-24 16:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16179260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tafih/pseuds/tafih
Summary: The late Queen Sarai loved five people with all of her heart.(Updated to be somewhat canon compliant)





	1. Ezran

**Author's Note:**

> So I was struck, found a headcanon somewhere on Tumblr that it’d be cool if Callum’s biological father was a Moonshadow elf, but well, I’m going to one-up you - DESPITE KNOWING NOTHING OF HOW THE LORE IS GOING TO END UP. 
> 
> Also, it'll just be the prologue and the first chapter for now but I'll post up all the other ones at once.  
> Enjoy!!

**EZRAN**

When she held his little body to her chest, Sarai knew that _love_ was something more grand, more powerful, more infinite than any other primal source.

That was when she knew that love multiplied.

The pain of birthing still ached. Everything from her back down to her toes, to her grinding teeth, to the hand that almost choked Harrow’s off - everything burned with tender pain.

But all she could notice, see, hear, smell, and touch was the little babe she held to her beating heart.

The tears came without warning and manifested all of her desperation and affection for this tiny one.  

“Welcome to the world, Ezran,” she whispered softly into his little ears. He whimpered and shifted as if in response.

And all the world was simply joy, again.

He was so _tiny -_  compared to how his older brother was. Guoxins had the tendency of being big newborns with large heads and chubby arms. But Ezran was miniscule in her arms, with thin and petite limbs.

“You’re going to have to eat a lot as you grow, little one,” she muttered to him.

“He’s _beautiful,_ ” Harrow wept from beside her, his words catching in his throat.

Sarai looked up at her husband, who sat at her bedside all aglow. He inched closer and she adjusted so that he might look upon his son with ease.

The king placed his hand on the crown of the babe’s head with incredible and fatherly gentleness. “Oh, _my son._ ”

Ezran was truly Harrow’s son, the queen mused to herself as she gazed at him. He had his father’s brow and a tuft of his hair. When Ezran winced, Sarai could see a flash of blue peek through - so he had his grandmother’s eyes.

“Sire, you have an heir,” the midwife proclaimed proudly to the king, which Sarai took in with mild discomfort.

She could see little Callum peeking through the gaps of the slightly opened door to her chambers. She saw the insecurity and fear in her eyes. The same she had when Amaya had been born.

Nearly about to burst with all the affection bubbling within her, she called out to her first-born, “Callum, come meet your brother.”

* * *

Sarai would never see her youngest son grow into a man but she saw him say his first words, take his first steps, read his first book, and defend his first fortress (a castle built in the boys’ study with chairs and several blankets).

Ezran gave her so much joy in his easy smile, his bright laugh, and his quick mind.

She will never forget the day when he toddled up to her, one day when he was 2 and 7/12 years old and whispered, “Mummy, Pip says he wikes Daddy more than me and dhat’s not fair.”

She had very special boys in her life, she realized then.

Sarai leaned in and whispered back, with a mischievous lilt in her voice, “That really isn’t very fair, hmm?” She hoisted him into her lap as he nodded in agreement. “Well, then we shouldn’t share any of the jelly tarts with Pip from now on, should we?”

An impish smile burst over Ezran’s lips and cheeks. “No!”

Then they both laughed and slipped into the kitchens with a master plan to steal at least  _eight_ tarts without getting caught.

* * *

She did not need to be a mother to know what she felt for her son.

She did not need anyone to tell her exactly what she knew in the very fiber of her being. 

She loved Ezran with all of her heart.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, SO - I'm obviously making up a LOT of stuff but when the lore is confirmed by upcoming seasons or by the creators I will change it. I just hope the little made-up words here and there won't be too distracting to you.  
> Also, Guo is the Chinese word for country and Xi can mean a lot of things, but I'll be using the Sino-Korean usage of the word "shi" meaning city. So, Guoxi is a country-city or a city-state!


	2. Harrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so these were just going to be snippets and short flash fiction type things but GUESS NOT. Here's a full chapter on Harrow!

**HARROW**

Harrow had always been a dear friend of hers since she was young.

She regarded him as a kindly older brother when her father had been the Prime Minister to his father, the late King Heiran. 

Her mother had been a colonel in the Royal Militant, who then became the Master at Arms when the family moved to the Capitol. In fact, the great Colonel Senna Chae-Hoshino had been the one to train Prince Harrow from his time as a short squire into his current and lauded skill. He had been her favorite student, apart from her own daughters, and the colonel would always say so with pride at state dinners.

Harrow would blush and young Amaya would demand a contest of skills, which would make Sarai laugh. 

The three of them - herself, her sister and her prince - would all have little adventures throughout the castle, exploring its secret depths, playing hide-and-seek, and trying to scare the guards. Most days, they would sneak into the kitchen and return to their secret hideout in an unused wing to share their spoils. Harrow would always make sure to take an extra tart or pastry for her.

Sarai had always thought Harrow sweet and kind, with a likeable if not silly sense of humor. His jokes always made Amaya roll her eyes but she, herself, could not help but laugh. 

They were friends, deeply and truly. Sarai knew this as soon as they could fall into a comfortable silence as they read through tomes in the library. 

But then their trio became a quartet and it had split their group right down the middle.

Viren was an interesting person, Sarai judged upon their first meeting the son of the High Mage. He would be quick to joke but there had been something strange beneath his tight smile and perfect posture. Something almost sinister in how he would regard anyone else but the prince.

 _He is dark because of dark magic,_ Amaya signed to her one day in their rooms when Sarai was tucking her into bed. _A snake. A devious snake. I hate him._

“Amaya, don’t be rude,” Sarai mouthed to her in silence so that no one could overhear her and assume. It also helped Amaya with her lip-reading when Sarai would say things without signing. “Just because he is an apprentice mage does not mean he practices dark magic.”

 _I still think he is. He is taking Harrow away from us. Not fair. Harrow does not play with me anymore,_ her sister retorted. _Viren is bad._

Sarai shook her head, bent down to kiss her forehead and signed that she should not worry. But she too had her doubts.

* * *

Those doubts multiplied when - years later - she returned from her mission, from the grave of the Xadian battlefields, and with a child strapped to her back.

When Amaya helped her and Callum down from her horse, Sarai could see the spectrum of emotions across the faces of her welcoming party. Surprise at her being alive, judgment of the boy she returned with, concern for her wellbeing - all among pitying eyes and strained expressions.

Harrow quickly ran through the small crowd and embraced her. His relief in seeing her had been colored by desperation. “I am so glad you’re safe,” he muttered heavily to her and she feared he had been crying.  

“Thank you, Harrow.”

But Viren, in all his lofty air and mannerisms, informed her coldly, “He is your _Crown Prince_ , now, Lady Sarai.”

Sarai could only nod at his demotion from her status as a captain to the title only gained by her noble birth. It may have been rude but she accepted it, not expecting to return to her place as a captain of the guard anyways. And she saw that Viren gazed at the reason sleeping on her back and that he knew too.

Her attention then returned to Harrow as he gripped her tighter to him and would not let go. Her arms gingerly wrapped around to his back. She worried about the lack of protocol in embracing the Crown Prince so intimately. But his warmth against her soothed her into the comfort they shared in their childhood.

When he finally did let her go, he regarded the baby asleep on her shoulder blades.

“Who is this little one?” he asked with gentle grace and an expression that Sarai could not comprehend.

* * *

 _He is in love with you_ , Amaya signed to her one day while they were sparring in the yard of Fort Fieron, the Katolis stronghold at the Breach.

Sarai thanked the Ancients that Gren had been distracted with watching Callum, who had just turned three. She mouthed calmly without saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Amaya moved her hand in a circle at the middle of her chest, and rolled her eyes in the same sarcastic direction. _Please_.

Sarai made sure Gren was still looking the other way then she tucked the grip of her waster into the crook of her elbow so she could sign _STOP,_ as emphatically as she could.

Amaya just raised her eyebrows up over and over as she stuck the tip of her waster blade in between her boots so that she could sign, _Why do you think he is at the Fort all the time?_

This _had_ puzzled Sarai. Why was the newly established Crown Prince of Katolis spending his holidays at the gloomy, humid, and dank hearth of Fort Fieron?

She had her suspicions, inklings here and there when he would present her with little gifts, ask to accompany her and Callum on walks, and in stares that lingered. But she knew that having a son, out of wedlock too, complicated things - and that was the end of that line of thinking.

Sarai looked at her sister and said, with clear enunciation in her lips, “Nothing can come of it anyway.” Then was surprised at how sad she became at the thought of it.

She turned to the squire teaching her son the sign for ‘monster’ to make him laugh, but only managed to frighten him. She chuckled and shouted, “Gren, take over for me.”

The boy that was not quite a man yet stood to attention and saluted. “Very good, Captain Sarai,” he proclaimed jerkily and it made her smile.

She tossed him her waster and helmet. “I’m not a captain anymore, Gren.”

“Oh, yes, umm, yes,” he muttered shyly and abashed.

So as she unclasped her breastplate, she gave him a warm smile and said, “Thank you for watching Callum. You are very good with children.”

“Thank you, Cap-uh-ma’am.”

Sarai laughed sweetly. This one was cute and would be just Amaya’s type in a few years. She could always guess which one Amaya would end up liking. So as he busied himself with the practice armor, Sarai turned to Amaya and smirked.

 _He will be a good father in the future,_ then she signed a question mark with a sly expression on her face.

Amaya shrugged an affirmation then flapped her open palms to express, “So?” or “Well?” or “What’s your point?”

Sarai retorted with, _A good father for_ **_my,_ ** and she kept her palm on her chest a while for emphasis, then finished with, _future nieces and nephews._

Amaya threw the waster at her, falling short a couple inches, startling Gren into dropping an armguard and making Sarai laugh.

The young major-commandant started furiously signing at her sister while simultaneously signing at a very confused Gren to look away.

 _He’s a child,_ Amaya insisted after Sarai suggested that Gren duck into the armory for another waster, which he did eagerly despite his befuddlement.

 _You are a child too,_ she signed smoothly back.

_I am NOT a child._

_A few years might change your mind,_ Sarai returned while laughing, before scooping up Callum in her arms.

Amaya made grunting noises from behind her until Gren showed up with a new waster for her to use.

Sarai risked one last glance at them and saw Gren gesture out his concern and Amaya signing, _I_ _t is none of your business._ Sarai laughed at the sight and whispered to Callum that his aunt has never had a best friend before while they slipped away into the depths of the Fort.

“Shall we go to the library then, little dove?” she asked the bundle of sheepish love as he dangled his legs from her hips.

He nodded eagerly and she made her way through the empty stone halls of the fort until they reached a small wing with a small library.

She set Callum down outside the door so that she could open it, and when she did, she saw the Crown Prince himself sitting at the library’s bay window. He was flipping through a monograph bounded in a deep and lovely blue,  _Love Amongst Dragons._  She recognized that sappy romance novel anywhere.

“Sarai,” Harrow said, his face and voice piquing at the sight of her. “Hi.” He set the book down and attempted to slip it behind him.

“Harr- _Crown_ _Prince_ Harrow,” she corrected herself before giving him a quick curtsy, which was hard to do in trousers and a toddler gripping her good leg. “I apologize, I did not mean to disturb you.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” he laughed as he walked over to her. “You know I’m not one for all those pleasantries, right?” He placed a hand over her shoulder with so much fondness it frightened her.

She could only nod.

Harrow then bent down to get on eye-level with her son. “Hello there, Callum, how are you?” The prince's voice is playful and sweet despite his low timbre.

“Fine. Dhank-oo,” Callum replied softly.

“I hear that you like painting,” Harrow said pleasantly.

Callum nodded and Sarai winced at the thought that the prince had heard about Callum finger-painting the table of the wood relief map in the war-room.

Her son was usually so well-behaved that it shocked her to see him slathering the wooden mountains of the Southern border with white paint.

“Snow,” was all he gave as an explanation.

She apologized profusely to General Gao, her uncle and Commander of the fort, who merely waved it off. But Sarai insisted that - her and Callum being guests who ruined an important artifact - she should pay for it.

When she came by his offices to deliver the money, he waved it off again and said that it was decided to have it painted anyway. She was told to keep her hard-earned money for herself and her son.

Now, she had a feeling why the map was being painted.

“I was fond of the arts myself,” Harrow explained to Callum, still crouching and smiling at the shy child. “Do you have any paints of your own?”

“Not reawy,” Callum murmured. Sarai had bought her son some paints, colored wax, and small strips of canvas for him to doodle on; but she took them away as a punishment for his endeavors in realistic painting.

“Oh, then I have a gift for you,” Harrow proclaimed excitedly and stretched out his arms to Callum. “Could I take you to see it?”

Sarai felt her heart warm at the sight, and nodded at Callum when he looked up at her for approval. He heedfully stepped towards the Crown Prince and into his arms.

Harrow then hauled him up with a falsely burdened huff and stated, “Goodness, you are so big, Sir Callum. You’re going to be a mighty warrior like your aunt, hmm? Or an artist like your mother?”

He stepped out of the library and beckoned Sarai to follow with smiling eyes.

Callum shook his head. “I’m gonnabe a drwagon,” he articulated softly.

Sarai startled at her son’s words but Harrow guffawed and said, “Well let’s find you a place where you can spread your wings, alright?”

Callum nodded this time as Harrow carried him down the hall, lifting him at the level of his shoulder so that they can sustain the same level of their eyes.

Watching them from behind, Sarai noticed that the toddler still cowered with all of his shyness and timidity in the arms of the towering royal. But Harrow’s gentleness and laughter, all of his charm that he had since childhood, compelled Callum to slowly open and laugh at Harrow’s strange japes.

Maybe Callum wouldn’t complicate things at all.

Then, Harrow revealed the surprise. He had led them to his own quarters in the fort and presented to them the largest stretch of canvas Sarai has ever seen. The edges spilled to the walls of his sizable solar while his furniture had been pushed to the sides and covered with linens. He must have planned for this well in advance.

He set Callum down in the middle and revealed slabs of writing granite, wax and oil pastels, and several pots of rich paint in colors that Sarai hadn’t seen in any of the nearby shops.

Callum’s eyes sparkled at the gift and stared keenly between the paints, his mother, and his future father. “Can I - _reawy_?”

Harrow laughed kindly at his toddler’s accent and boldly pronounced, “Yes, of course.”

Callum instantly dipped his hands into the blue and pink paints, then ravaged the canvas beneath him.

“Prince Harrow, I-.”

“Sarai, just Harrow.”

“ _Harrow_ ,” she smiled. “Thank you.”

“I have a gift for you too,” he admitted.

“Harrow, please. You've done enough already.”

“Mm,” he hummed. "Please, _I insist_ ," he quipped as he revealed an inkblob in his hand from behind his back. He grinned at her like the rogue he was and before she could scream at him to stop, he threw it at her and drenched her training clothes with fresh blue ink.

That was when Callum’s painting project turned into a color war as ink, paints and dyes of all hues were flung about the room.

To her dismay, Harrow defected Callum to his side and launched an attack from the desk to the north. Callum chuckled in glee as he pelted his mother with greens and oranges.

Pinned and with little ammunition, Sarai jumped into the fray and plunged towards her son and her prince with several inkblobs at the ready. The suicide mission reaped incredible results as a rainbow had covered all parties and left them in stitches of laughter.

Then a courtier entered about to ask for the prince and screamed at the sight of the solar.

So their fun ended with thorough washings and a promise that the prince would visit to read Callum a story later that evening.

When Callum was finally droopy-eyed enough to be plied into bed, Harrow took it upon himself to wish her son goodnight and tucked him into the little cot in her room himself.

“He’s never been so eager to stay up before,” she sighed after she gently closed the door behind her. “I blame you completely, your Highness.”

“Well, Lady Sarai, then I gladly take the blame,” Harrow chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve seen him laugh that much.”

Sari looked askance and rubbed her elbow. “He is a shy child.” With a shrug, she reveals with as much mirth as she can muster, “And admittedly, there is little for a child at Fort Fieron.”

Despite her attempt to use a lighter tone, Harrow looked absolutely distressed by her words. He takes her hand and pleads, “Then come back to the capitol with me. I leave in three days and-,”

“Your Highness, I am already intruding on the hospitality of my uncle. I could not ask that of you.”

“You won’t be intruding, Sarai and _please_ , just call me Harrow.” His voice was tinged with desperate sorrow. He knew that she tried to draw herself away from him.  

Sarai shook her head, unprepared for the sudden rush of feelings and worries plaguing her now. “I can’t.”

“Sarai,” Harrow placed his forehead on hers. He whispered her name again and again until the world seemed to slow so that only their beatings hearts could move. “Sarai, you surely must know of my feelings.”

“Your Highness, I cannot -” she exhaled her tension but it still remained. “If I did anything to encourage your affections I must apologize. I had no desire to-”

“Sarai,” Harrow admonished. He lifted her face to him but she could not return his gaze. She held so much guilt and fear at that moment, all she could do was stare at the ground. “I know, Sarai. I know that you were only thinking of Callum. That you came all the way here to prevent me from -” he laughed at his own thoughts, “from being _tempted_ by your person.”

She grimaced at his levity. “You will be king; so the future queen must be someone more appropriate than a disgraced captain, your Highness.”

“Call me ‘Your Highness’ or ‘my prince’ one more time, Sarai, I swear,” Harrow growled. “I will ask you to marry me right now.”

She shuddered into silence and Harrow’s eyes laughed before hers. He finally got her attention.

“Viren won’t approve,” she finally muttered, her final resort.

He guffawed, lifting his head while his laughter echoed through the empty hall. When he settled into breathy chuckles he took her face with his broad hands.

“Ancients, I love you,” he laughed then he flattened his expression to display his seriousness. “And screw Viren.”

Part of her mind wryly commented on Viren and screwing, but she said nothing. Instead, her mind was overwhelmed by the fact that the prince was creeping towards her, bit by bit.

“Harrow,” she breathed as his lips inched closer to hers. “Your court would kill me.”

“And you’d fight them all off. Next excuse?” He advanced a centimeter.

“The Pentarchy would not respect a queen who has had a child already.”

“Callum is _my_ son,” he stated suddenly, surprising her. “I’ve already decided. Because he is your blood...I…” He softened. “I already consider him family. It won’t take much to make it official.”

“You… you…”

“Made you speechless, I see. I do have that effect,” he said smugly.  

“Harrow, you - you _can’t_ ,” she entreats.

“Why? What possible justification could you have now?”

“I don’t love you,” she finally declared, harsh in her insistence.

But to her shock, Harrow smiled and pushed on, closer to her. “Lying to royalty is a crime, you know.”

She blinked at his forwardness and put up a hand between them. “I’m not lying, Harrow.”

“Amaya told me you liked my butt.”

“I...” she groaned in frustration. “I am going to kill her and it is no crime to admire a specimen,” Sarai quickly retorted. “It does not mean I am in love with you.”

“ _And_ my voice gave you - how did she phrase it - _‘lovely little chills’_?” he punctuated each syllable with a light sing-song and mocking tone.

At this, Sarai prickled and nearly raised her voice. “Now how could she sign that? That-.”

“She wrote it down on a note and passed it to me this morning,” he revealed.

Sarai looked away at the moon shining down at them through the stained window panes, and vowed upon the Primal Source that she would murder her sister.

“So...anything else for your defense, my dear?”

She scoffed and bolstered her internal effort one more time, which had been proving difficult as he curved his hands to the small of her back.

“I consider you as my liege and friend, your Highness” she said. "Only as my liege and my friend."

He dipped his head into her shoulder with a dejected sigh. Then he perked back up and stared at her with a beaming smile. “You said 'your Highness’.”

She jumped at the realization of his words. “ _Harrow_ ,” she chided.

“Ah-ah, no take-backs. You are going to be courted tonight, Captain Sarai - whether you like it or not.” Then he stopped himself and muttered, “But I mean, if you didn’t like it that would pose a problem and-.”

“ _Harrow_ ” she repeated.

He snapped to attention. “Right, well then, _my lady_ ,” he began. “Your liege has heard your concerns and has done away with them. There is only one question he must ask of you.”

She prepared herself for it and says, “Yes?”

“Do _you_ know that the _prince_ knows that you are in love with him?”

That was not the question she had been expecting. She wondered at how he kept surprising her. 

“I had not known,” she responded gracefully. Then added, “my _prince_.”

He smirked at her play and finally, _finally,_ placed his lips upon hers.

At his touch, all her concerns melted down into her. In their place, all the feelings of friendship, endearment, and care for him had boiled over in a single sentiment.

When he parted from her and gazed at her with so much love and affection, she knew what that sentiment was.

When he asked her to marry him, she knew.

When he brought her and Callum to the capitol, she knew.

When he gave eager kisses to her son’s cheeks, she knew.

When she stepped onto the altar in a white and green dress a few months later, she knew.

When they stepped out onto the balcony after their coronation, as he held Ezran in his arms, she knew. 

* * *

She loved Harrow with all of her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, King Harrow is a dreamboat - not gonna lie and I am half-convinced that Viren exchanged the bodies of Pip and Harrow. HARROW IS STILL ALIVE...i hope


	3. Callum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate what AO3 does to italics...if you see a spacing error next to something italicized, let me know :D

**CALLUM**

The months prior to Callum’s birth had been inundated with trepidation and fear.

The journey from the Southern ends of the Breach into the kingdom of Katolis had taken a physical toll as well. Her maze of misery was that of treacherous terrain and a troubled half of a soul, about to be further divided in eight to nine months.

As she slipped from village to outpost to village, the constant question of whether she should bring this child into the heartless world plagued her mind and body. She worried about the birth and how - without help - things could go terribly wrong.

It seemed like death would be inevitable for the both of them - herself and the little babe within her.

But in the end, she knew she owed Callum’s father at least that. That she would bring life to their baby.

She would close her eyes and remember the moment she told him she was with child - and the utter joy they had felt together at the prospect. The utter joy that they _shared_ together at the thought of their bond yielding fruit beyond them.

It was so hard to explain, the _whatever_ they shared, and even harder to relinquish.

When the memory of him renewed her, warmed her, and calmed her, Sarai would steel herself and make another step.

She could not extinguish that joy, not when it could be made anew.

She promised him.

So, in the middle of a raging storm that ravaged the skies between the earth and the fullest Summer moon, Sarai brought Callum into the world.

Within the stables of a manor home, Sarai felt all that dread and unease pass into the pain that bore her uttermost joy. She had been propped up on a pile of hay as her bed and pillow as the rain and winds howled their fury, outdoing the babe’s screaming at his arrival.

Her cousin, a courtier of the manor, operated with attentive and utilitarian ministration as she cut the cord and wiped him of his blood. The storm brought cover but if they were caught, it would spell trouble. Then if the lord of the house himself discovered his wife’s attendant had shirked her nighttime duties to sneak Sarai in and help bring a bastard into the world, it would mean absolute ruin.

Lady Hana of House Hearthold knew the risk she took to help her kin.  So she proceeded with the clinical aptitude of an assassin in the opposite endeavor, of bringing life rather than taking it.

Then when Callum had been cleaned and wrapped in a firm swaddle, Hana took a moment to regard him, without meaning to, and melted at the sight.

“Hello, nephew,” she said warmly in Guoxi, a tongue she had not used in ages.

Then set him against Sarai’s breast.

Sarai brought his wrinkled forehead to her lips with a kiss holding all of her love, breathed him in and felt his life emanate. Then she brought him down into the crook of her elbow to behold her son.

Thank the Ancients there was very little of his father save for a few brown tufts of hair and a healthy pink tone beneath his skin.

“Callum,” Sarai breathed through the shudders subsequent of childbirth. “You will be Callum, my little dove. And you will be the One to bring peace to all the lands. I know it,” she said in truth and touched prophecy as she began to weep. She felt his destiny in her bones - it rushed through her then out into her tears.

She held the Peacemaker in her arms. She held her son in her arms. She held _his_ son in her arms. What else could she feel but joy and love?

“Thank you,” she muttered out to Hana. Her cousin nodded as if it were nothing. But Sarai knew the risks. So she wept, “Thank you,” again and again.

A few weeks later, Hana was able to smuggle them into her husband’s entourage when the household went with the lord to the nearby city of Midport for a wedding. At the first moment they were able to slip away, she gave Sarai some gold coins, jade trinkets, and two patents for identification papers.

Sarai was stunned by Hana’s constant generosity, despite the dangers. “May the Ancients bless you for your kindness. What great lengths you have gone to simply keep me safe,” Sarai exclaimed as she embraced her cousin.

“Sare, I am simply repaying the kindness you have always shown me in our youth. You were the one who led me to my husband and to a life I would have not even dreamed of.” Hana returned with a rare smile.

“Then what should I do with all of this gratitude?” Sarai retorted with a humored sigh.

Hana chuckled before being overcome with something and hugging Sarai close again. “Stay here, in Midport, until he’s old enough - so I can keep an eye on the two of you. I can help find you a job and-,”

“Hana, you’ve already done so much.”

“It’s going to be hard for him...” Hana nodded towards the basket set beside them, holding the ever quiet Callum. “ _And_ for you...not having a father.”

“I know…” Sarai mused. Bastards were not uncommon but harsh treatment of them was not uncommon either.

“Stay?” Hana entreated one last time. 

“I will for you.”

So she did. 

For nearly two years, she made her living among the village, earning her keep with a variety of jobs.

During business days, she acted as an assistant for a scrivener, especially when documents from Guoxi necessitated translation. Thankfully, Master Daehorn proved to be an incredibly compassionate man, not only allowing Sarai to bring Callum and hold him as she worked but also becoming a surrogate uncle to the boy.

During business evenings, she helped out in an inn - waiting tables, cooking, or washing linens. For her odd jobs at the establishment, the woman who owned the inn allowed her and Callum to stay in one of the smaller rooms. She was not as kind to her as Daehorn.

The proprietor, Mrs. Marie Scroop, always spat out vitriol about bastards and lowly women, and very clearly had something against Sarai’s race. Anything that had gone wrong in the inn was attributed instantly to Sarai and Callum.

Sarai was talking with the customers too much, the soup was too hot one day, the flowers Sarai picked were too fragrant, or a stain hadn’t been completely removed from a table - Scroop’s girth had been wide and her frequent complaints wider still.

“For _all_ my generosity in taking you in,” Scroop would proclaim loudly for all the guests and thensome to hear. Then would finish the statement with something on Sarai’s impudence and incompetence.

Since she was a woman with limited employment options and a single mother, no other establishment in Midport would accept her and Callum without a considerable mortgage. So, in the face of plump bitterness and loathing in the form of her employer, Sarai would simply smile, accept the criticism, and carry on with her duties. Thankfully, the cook was also a sweet older woman who would watch Callum when Sarai would be busy.

"I can't do much to protect you," the cook, Mrs. Davies, said to her one day as she played with Callum's miniature feet. "But I can at least help with this." 

Sarai thanked her, most of her life she just thanks people. But she knew she could withstand Scroop and all other people like her. Because when her jobs were finished, she would take Callum and they would retreat back into the folds of their little room.

There, the world was simply joy.

Callum was such a good child, never fussing or crying unless he was deeply troubled by his bowels or hunger. He seemed to know when she was busy because he would only ever cry for milk until she had a moment to step aside. Even as a infant, Callum tried to care for his mother. How easily he made her world.

She would coo at him and when he smiled back, her heart blossomed in a way that kept all her worries at bay. Then she would whisper to him stories of his father, truths he would not be able to remember.

In the darkest hours of the night, Sarai would revel in their little corner of joy with her son.

One of these nights, urgent knocks sounded from the entrance to the inn.  

Sarai gathered up her most beloved into her arms and filed out into the main hall to see Scroop trudge to the door in her nightgown and her hair in knots, grumbling about decency and hours.   

Then the door opened and they both see the banner of the Royal Militant and Scroop suddenly turned into all this praise and flattery as she waved them in. That eagerness quickly drained, however, when the leader of the troop walked in looking for a particular person of overlooked importance.

“Amaya?”

 _Found you, stupid,_ Amaya signed to her sister.

* * *

Within a few years, Callum was no longer the only source of joy and light in her second chance at life, one not bound in misery. But she would never forget how Callum was her joy first.

There were occasional moments, when misery would return, especially when she spied her son withdrawing into himself.

To see him in such a way, as he cowered from the faces of other people, sensing their judgment before he could even really understand what it meant - it killed Sarai. Callum had no claim to the throne, yet people despised him for being so close.

Even if he had any right, it was made quite clear that his reticent personality and homey interests did not make for the prince the court had wanted. “The step-prince,” they would say sweetly but Sarai knew their meaning. The first time she heard that, her typically silent anger was barely contained.

She established that if she ever heard her first-born be called ‘the step-prince’ again in her presence, she would exact a punishment as harshly as she could as the new queen. It was the only time she used her title to do anything (for people not her sister).

It was the only thing concerning the court that she brought up to Harrow. But her husband dismissed all of that and reassured her that they didn’t need to worry about heirs, that the rumors would die eventually. But Harrow was only sweetness and trust when it came to his people. There was no wonder that the rumors of Sarai seducing her way to her crown had circulated for as long as it had. She ignored those because she was above that. People could whisper all they want about the manner of their marriage. But those who knew them knew the truth and that was all that mattered. 

But for Callum, for a child to be the subject of such malice, it burned Sarai. Again, Harrow tried his best and she appreciated his ardent care for her son. Yet, she could not help but see the naivete he held for Callum.

Then it only got worse.

One day, she had trudged all the way from her quarters to the kitchens - while seven months pregnant and sustained only by an intense craving, only to see Lord Viren lick his fingers of the remnants of the last tart.

Her anger and keen sense of betrayal and desperation unleashed a nightmare that Viren will remember for all eternity.

“I am pregnant…” she began as her fury mounted. “-with your future King’s child...and you have the _**gall**_ to _eat the last tart_?”

Viren could not respond; he did not have the time. Within three seconds, his queen had a decorating knife at his throat and her death grip wrenching his arm back in an unnatural angle. He yelped in pain but because the tart had dried his throat, he could only hack and screech like a choking bird.

But before she could kill him, Amaya barrelled through the door, utilizing her quick reflexes and sixth sense in knowing when her older sister is terrorizing someone. The newly appointed colonel pulled the raging and hormonal queen off the Royal Mage.

 _You need to learn to chill,_ Amaya signed to her sister as Viren regained breath in his lungs.

 _We should have killed him when we were kids_ , Sarai signed as Amaya pushed her out of the kitchens, into the courtyard, and onto a bench where she could expel her anger with breathing exercises and not in murder.

 _As much as I would like that,_ Amaya gestured. _Don’t kill him._

“I know. I know.”

_I’ll find the baker and get you some tarts just for you and Ezzie._

“Thanks,” Sarai heaved with a grateful sigh while tapping right under her lips with an open palm then pulling it toward Amaya. Her sister nodded and went off on the precarious mission to get a pregnant woman some sweets.

Sarai sighed again as she placed her hands over her showing belly.

“I had not expected a temper on you,” Viren chuckled, his condescension specialized for her peeking through. He sat down beside her on the bench.

“It only comes out when someone eats the last tart,” she responded in a joking but still guarded manner.

She spied Harrow on the ramparts with Callum on his shoulders. She lifted her hand to wave at her two boys while she wondered if she would have a third soon.

“Callum is an Elven name,” Viren suddenly said while he too motioned at his liege and her son. “Did you know that when you named him?”

“I had not,” was her quick and equally cold response.  

Viren smirked as he straightened himself out and dusted off his robes. “His father-”

“Was a mistake,” she lied. “And a forgotten memory.” She paused, her gaze was drawn to the tiles of the courtyard. “I barely knew him,” Sarai whispered and despite the bond she shared with him, it was true.  

Viren absorbed her falsehoods and truths with a deep inhale. He was caught in a moment of contemplation before finally saying, “Harrow has been incredibly kind to Callum and your marriage has set quite a precedent.”

“Indeed it has but Lord Viren, I must ask…”

“Yes, my queen?” Viren noted in his typical smug and sinister air.

“Where does all your impudence come from?" she declared with all the regality she could muster, "Especially when addressing your queen and her son?”

He could pull anything he wanted with her but not against Callum. Not while she lived and breathed.

He merely smiled politically and stated, “From the knowledge that your son might be exiled once his parentage is revealed.”

“Was that a threat, Lord Viren?” Her words were firm and watchful.

“Only if my lord and liege is threatened,” he returned lightly. His loyalty for Harrow was the only thing preventing him from outright disrespecting her. But it did not liken her to him any more than it had all those years ago.

“I would never cause harm to my husband. Neither would Callum's existence.”

The political smile returned. “Good.”

“Sarai! Viren!”

The two broke from their war to witness the Crown Prince, soon to be King Harrow, and the boy he claimed as his son saunter to them from across the courtyard.

“Hello, darling,” Sarai said, referring to her son while petting him affectionately as soon as he attached himself to her leg.

“What about me?” Harrow asked as he bent down to kiss her cheek.

Sarai rolled her eyes and supplied, “Hello, _my prince_.”

He chuckled gratefully in response before he kissed her again, this time on her lips.

“Ew,” Sarai heard Callum say softly into her skirts. She smiled. 

“What brings you two together?” Harrow asked as he firmly patted Viren on the shoulder.

“Viren ate the last tart,” Sarai explained. “And I almost killed him.”

“Damn,” Harrow muttered. Sarai instinctively placed her hands over her son’s ears.

“ _Harrow_ ,” she seethed.

“Sorry, I’m still not used to - sorry,” her husband murmured apologetically. Then he commented, seriously, “Viren, it’s a miracle you’re not dead.”

Before Sarai could retort, Viren stood and said, “Yes, well, your majesties, I am concerned that the longer I stay the more danger I will be in, so I will go and tend to my duties.”

“Rightly so, Lord Viren,” Sarai returned with chilling mirth.

Viren did not react save for a short flick of his gaze. “Harrow, I do think I need your opinion on the latest maneuvers.”

“Of course,” Harrow responded as a ruler but quickly turned to his wife with a large smile and said, “Love you. I’ll see you later tonight."

"Alright, don't be long," Sarai said with unbidden and effortless affection as she looked at her husband.  

"Of course," he returned, giving her knuckles one last kiss before walking towards the gates with Viren. "Callum, be nice to your mother,” he then gave to her son in jest but the boy nodded soberly anyway. 

“Bye,” Sarai murmured warmly back as she waved the two away.

“Mom,” Callum muttered sweetly.

Sarai smiled at her boy. “Yes, darling?”

“How’s the baby?” His small hands patted her knees and bump as gently as he could manage.

“They’re doing alright, little dove. Did you have fun with...?” She failed to finish, instead helping him climb the bench so that he could sit beside her.

Callum nodded then slowly spoke, “Da...Ki-Uncle Harrow told me about the borders today.”

They were all getting used to it - herself, Harrow, and Callum. Her son still could not bring himself to call Harrow ‘dad’ just yet. But neither Sarai nor Harrow himself wanted Callum to force it. “Uncle Harrow” was fine for as long as he needed.

“What did you learn?” Sarai asked.

The boy looked caught in thought so she waited until he could find the right words. Then he asked, “Are elves evil, mom?”

Sarai paused at this, wondering and wondering about what she could say. “Not all, Callum. Not all of them.”

“Uncle Harrow said that we’re fighting the elves because of a war...but I’ve never seen any bad elves.”

Fierce emotions, that were usually so well hidden, started reforming inside of her until finally, she had Callum stand up on the bench so that they could look at each other.

“Callum, you cannot repeat this to anyone but I want you to remember this, alright?”

“Okay.”

“The elves are different and the humans, we made mistakes. And those mistakes turned into a war that sometimes we don’t need.”

He nodded slowly.

“A lot of people are different, that’s what makes this world so amazing. But people will always go to war over things are different.”

“Why?”

“Because humans are scared of what is different.”

“Is that why some people are scared of me?” he asked and her world shattered.

“Honey, who-who is scared of you?” she asked as she blinked back tears. Her hands stroking the softness of his hair and cheeks as she gazed upon her son, and remembering his father. 

He shrugged and swiveled his foot back and forth. “I feel different. The other kids...I don’t know,” he ended up saying.

She brought her son to her shoulder and held him with all her desperate love. “Callum, if there is anyone being mean to you, you tell me or Uncle Harrow, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

Her heart ached as the next words spilled into the air, bringing their curse and certainty. “Callum, I’m not going to lie to you. I will never lie to you. Alright?”

He nodded.

She spoke slowly and deliberately, “Honey, sometimes, you are going to feel that you do not belong, that you are not right - but you _are_." A breath hitched in her throat. "It will be hard for you, I can’t-” She inhaled sharply. “I can’t lie to you and say that it won’t. And you will always be tempted by the thoughts that you are not good enough but Callum," she tried so hard to keep her disquiet at bay. "I know for certain that you are destined for greatness - maybe not fame or glory - but your destiny is something great and it was marked by _all_ the primal sources.”

“I...I don’t understand,” Callum muttered back but his apprehension was apparent, but it showed that he at least felt her meaning.

“I know, dove. I know.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t understand,” he offered timidly.

“No, darling, don’t ever feel sorry for not understanding. Because you will someday and we can talk about it again.”

“Okay,” he bleated like a shaking lamb.

“But Callum.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“If you do ever feel badly, I want you to remember just two things.”

* * *

When she passes, Callum’s walls rush up again. He feels like a stranger in the castle, a stranger in his own home. Without her, it is just a building with halls and doors and rooms. Without her, it is nothing.

Viren makes sure of it, too.

But thankfully, there is always a piece of her with him because he does remember. He knows that her mother loved him.

She loved Callum with all of her heart. And, while he was never too sure, Sarai always told him that his father loved Callum just as much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Callum" is a Scottish name and if you don't think that's proof for Callum's father being an elf, well...you still might be right, who knows. lol  
> So I have a younger brother, and that experience has defined me intensely to the point where most of my characters have that relationship. But one thing I noticed about fandom, when it comes to siblings, is that fandom usually gets interactions wrong. I’ll see a lot of on-spot ones but in general, you guys have no idea.
> 
> I coddle my brother like no other but will still call him a total ass within the same sentence. He’s in college now and I’m on the other side of the world and he doesn’t call me so I hate him.
> 
> Anyways, the chapter on Callum’s father and Amaya are coming up and they are going to take a while, just because of how emotional it’ll be for me. Probably not for you when you read it, but for me to write it hahahahaha
> 
> Also, I made Viren a bit of a d*ck. I do think he has redeemable qualities and there are parts of him are genuine but yeah...


End file.
